These Texans think so.
Imagine all the westerns filmmaker Taylor Sheridan could shoot on 266,000 acres of property.
The uneasy alliance between ranchers and the oil industry goes all the way back to the early wildcatting days in West Texas. But today, that relationship is more fraught than ever.
The ninety-year-old conservationist and fried-chicken tycoon reflects on land stewardship—and the invaluable lessons he learned as a young door-to-door salesman.
Taylor Collins and Katie Forrest welcome guests to their sprawling Hill Country home.
Texas wildlife officials say they’re just trying to stop the spread of a deadly infection. Deer breeders see another agenda at work.
When torrential storms brought raging flood waters to their ranch in Eastland, the Barrett family took to the muddy waters to rescue their prized horses.
The King Ranch saga: how one family conquered, tamed, loved, toiled on, and fought over a great piece of Texas.
Dolph Briscoe used to govern Texas. He still owns a bigger piece of it than any individual in the world.
At the core of the King Ranch is the vaquero tradition, the centuries-old culture of horsemen and cattle that began on the central plateau of Spain. Richard saw how that culture could transform the Great Plains, and in the 1850s he made a recruiting trip to Mexico. The families he
Robert E. Lee advised his friend Richard King to build his permanent home at the highest point on the surrounding prairie, a little rise on the banks of Santa Gertrudis Creek. The first building was a tiny adobe jacal built of mud and sticks. The one-story house that replaced it
Richard King and his wife, Henrietta, founded the King Ranch. Their daughter Alice and her husband, Robert Kleberg — shown with their children in the turn-of-the-century photograph at the right — founded the family that sustained it. When Henrietta King died in 1925, the ranch’s 1.2 million acres were divided
Ranching ultimately comes down to managing land and water. The King Ranch is blessed with much of the former and almost none of the latter. Before it was divided among Richard and Henrietta King’s five children in 1935, the King Ranch was bigger than Delaware. Now it’s only bigger than
Bob Kleberg had a problem. Brahman cattle from India were tough enough to survive in the South Texas climate, but they were too tough to eat. And fat English cattle like Herefords and Shorthorns suffered the traditional fate of the English in the tropics: they degenerated into a stupor and
Why are there so few Texan philosophers?
Cattle ranching in Texas has been endangered almost since its inception. Has the harsh economic reality finally caught up with our most iconic business?
Read an excerpt from a new book by Rhonda Lashley Lopez.
Could Ray Fernandez, the grandson of a Mexican American maid, be the rightful heir to the vast Kenedy fortune, including the family's mythic South Texas ranch?
They’re a major nuisance in rural Texas— but, boy, do they taste good.
Sorry, T. R. Fehrenbach: the new Texas historians don’t care about Davy Crockett or other old icons. To them, the real heroes are women, blacks, and yes, Mexican Americans.
The verdict is in: Oprah loves Texas—and Texas loves Oprah. The queen of daytime talk swept into the Panhandle, turned the tide of public opinion, and had courtroom watchers asking, Where’s the beef?
The life and legacy of a Texas icon.
The secrets of Big Bend Ranch State Park.
A history mystery involving ranching’s King family.
Home on the Range All over Texas, small ranchers are giving up and moving to the city. But the Stoner family of Uvalde is as determined as ever to hold on to its land—and its way of life.
From water rationing to stricken crops, the current drought may be as devastating as the one in the early fifties—the time it never rained.
The Federal Express of the cattle business.
Celebrity land deals—not.
A final farewell to the Hill Country spread that for more than thirty years meant everything to me and my family.
All across Texas, vandals are searching for ancient treasures by looting Indian campgrounds—including the one on my family’s ranch.
A third-generation rancher rebuilds his spread by just saying no to cattle.
With bulldozers poised to plow through their family’s historic spread, three San Antonio sisters are waging war against the state department.
Trans-Pecos ranchers grapple with El Paso over the West’s most valuable resource.
Without these funky watering holes, where would we—much less our cattle and sheep—be today?
The great Texas ranches and how they got that way.
“When the cowboys on the 06 ranch talked about losing a way of life, they often pointed to their neighbor, Clayton Williams, as an example of what they meant. He was a millionaire and an oilman, and he represented everything they hated.”
These days it seems every five-acre ranchette flaunts a gate worthy of the XIT.
In today‘s tame, tame West, the cowboy seldom rides a horse and never carries a gun, but the cattle business is bigger than ever.